This Matter is Mine
by vertigoSWAY
Summary: Three years to the day and the world spins out of control again. With new faces in a spiral of conspiracy and old ones trying to clear their names, a danger lurks in the heart of the situation and one must realize to lose is to win -a little is enough.
1. Prologue, this matter is ours

**Title ref: "This matter is mine; don't worry I'm fine." (The Goldfish Song by Kina Grannis)**

**My take on Series 4. Obviously bending the reality of reality a bit. :]  
****I'll be putting in cameos of past companions of the Doctor.**

* * *

What left the Earth was humanity. Not just the humanity of one man, but the humanity of others. The rationality of mankind. It was the Cold War all over again but even deadlier. It was small at first, just sudden thoughts here and there. But the people spoke and the tension spread throughout the planet. Wars that were already going on frightened the people. One wrong move sent others into paranoia.

And Britain. Britain was at the heart of it.

In a small flat in a little kitchen, a woman puts the kettle on for her husband and her young baby girl who is barely three. In another flat another woman puts the kettle on all alone. Somewhere else, a secretary suddenly jumps as she sees someone enter the office that looks strikingly familiar, but it isn't him. A gun clatters to the ground as she empties it at a practice target. She hasn't touched a gun in three years. She remembers the last time she used it, a shot in a man's leg, and before that, to kill. In a small attic, a woman and three teenagers pace the floor –or ceiling. The world seems a lot smaller, even with their super computer.

Over one ocean, on the coast, in a high rise building, once-were British citizens and now American are asking too many questions. The general dismisses them, even threatening to fire the woman, but he doesn't really mean it.

But they're all wondering what the world has come to.

And dotted across the world, are those who still believe there are blue police boxes. Others have already lost hope. No blue police box was ever going to come. Because if he didn't already, he never would.

* * *

**So basically, handing kids over was blamed on Torchwood.  
Cold War tension all over again, with less people aiming nukes at each other.  
Probably get less confusing as it continues. **


	2. Life As We Knew It

She was going to be late. The bus slowly creaked to a stop and Esther Katusi ran the rest of the way to the office, fighting a biting wind that had not been forecasted. Her flats made soft thumps against the sidewalk as she struggled to pull out her ID badge from her work bag. After giving the card to the officer to inspect, she went into the building and waited for the elevator. As the mundane office work day whizzed about her, she pinned the badge to her shirt and had failed to see one very important thing on her way in.

* * *

Party. Work. Party… Work… Nope, definitely party. Rex Matheson tried to rub his head to get rid of the hangover. Gun safely hidden away in his clothes, he came to work through the other entrance, flashing the badge and revealing the company-issued gun.

CIA. Central Intelligence Agency. To Rex, it was a way of money. He could be a doctor or a lawyer, or anything else than gave him a good income and he wouldn't care. Of course, this was the best pick. He just had to follow instinct, despite the good amount of knowledge he already had. Rules? There were none for Rex. So far, instinct had not failed him. If it had worked for his whole life, it wasn't about to decide to take a break now.

Still, rubbing his eye and effectively closing his eye, he turned to corner for the elevators and nearly bumped into a dark-brown haired woman. The woman gave a small shout of surprise as Rex tumbled back, immediately composing himself and trying to erase any sign of a hangover. "Oh, Es…" he mumbled.

"Hello hangover," she muttered back.

"Why ya here early?" Rex was down from Texas. The southern drawl was evident in his voice even if he hadn't been home for a few years.

"I'm late. You're the only one who doesn't care about the time."

The elevator gave a sharp ring to signal that it had arrived. The two stepped inside, riding to their respective floors.

* * *

"Martha Jones," the commanding general said, stepping into her medical lab. "The guest is here. I am sure you will be of good service to him."

The doctor set down her pen and looked up from her paperwork. She had a professional smile as she linked her hands together on her desk. "Of course," she said back, waiting for the general to leave before coming down herself.

"Dr. Martha Jones," the guest greeted.

"Brigadier," Martha smiled, shaking his hand. "I trust your flight was alright?"

"Can't say it's the better than the Doctor's flying."

"I know what you mean," she laughed.

"Have you seen the state of this? What has the world come to?"

"Ever since Jack left-"

"You can't bear the weight on one man Martha. You of all people should know that. Now I've never met this captain, but I've heard and from what I've heard he's just like the Doctor."

"Well if the Doctor actually came then maybe the world would be a better place," Martha argued stiffly as she began to lead him down corridors.

"You are a lovely girl Jones, and smart. Sometimes I wonder about your trust in the Doctor."

"You sound like you know all about him."

"No, not really but maybe a bit more. I've seen him many times, many different incarnations. I haven't seen him for years but I remember the last time. Had the weirdest clothes on. Told me he was fighting a war and that he knew how to end it. So I asked him what was wrong and he just said, 'I'm not as good as you think I am.'"

"Time Lords are dead," Martha whispered.

"I just laughed. I told him, 'Well neither am I.' Haven't seen him yet."

"None of us have," the doctor laughed.

"All those times when something happened in the past, back when this place…" the Brigadier waved his cane around at the rooms, "was just starting and they kept asking me where the Doctor was when they wanted him. 1965. I remember that day well."

"Back then, with all those Daleks in the sky and the Doctor wasn't there… I thought he had really left us. Harriet was right. The day when we needed him the most, he wasn't going to be there."

"Mrs. Jones," the Brigadier said, stopping Martha with his cane. She turned to look at him, looking very professional with her white lab coat and down, brushed straight and stiff. The files in her hand, up at her chest added to the attire. "Let me ask you," the former companion asked the other former companion. "Why are you a doctor?"

"I want to help people."

"But not everyone can be saved."

Martha laughed bitterly. "When I came here, I thought I could make them better. You know how the Doctor is. No guns, no irrationality. Look at the world now. I can't go up to my office without being eyed, much less get a coffee from the shop downstairs. It's like I'm the one with the gun now."

The Brigadier placed a hand on Martha's right shoulder. "The world won't be ending for a few trillion years. No need to worry."

"Well…" Martha said, slowly drifting from her thoughts and directing herself to the times she had with the Doctor. "I was there."

The Brigadier laughed and Martha led him on his way to the general's office.

* * *

Esther was at her computer that was constantly receiving reports. Looking down from the screen and to the papers on her desk and back up again, she grew aware of the person in the corner of the room doing nothing and idling. It looked a little odd, but maybe the young woman was just waiting for someone to give her files.

The watch analyst didn't know the other woman and she thought nothing of it. The CIA was big; you couldn't know everyone. When Esther looked up again, finally scanning the room, the woman was gone, probably off to do some work. Then she collected her paperwork in her hands and paper clipped it tight. Standing up and taking the papers with her, a small silver chain slipped to the ground. Esther caught it last minute and inspected it. A necklace with a small pendant on it. Lovely etching onto the silver. Shrugging, she slipped it into her skirt pocket and proceeded to hand in the paperwork.

"Miss Katusi," the boss of the division greeted as she knocked on his glass office door. Her motioned for her to come in. "I was just about to call you."

"I have my paperwork sir," Esther responded.

"Set it down." The neat stack of papers graced themselves on the dark Espresso finish of the desk in the room. "You have a new assignment."

"I'm sorry sir?"

"Sit. You have a secret assignment, active until otherwise stated. You're one of the best analysts we have. Smart, quick, logical, always thinking."

"No really. I'm not," Esther blushed.

The graying hair from her boss blended in with his suit jacket stained with what seemed like cigarette ashes. "You will be doing some top secret, investigative work."

"Oh. Well I-"

"Don't worry, we have a field agent that will work with you."

"Who?"

"Matheson."

"Oh," Esther replied, a bit surprised.

"Effective immediately. You will be sent to Britain tomorrow."

"Britain?" Esther questioned. "What are we investigating sir?"

"Torchwood. We're going after Torchwood."

* * *

Martha was with the Brigadier in General Roth's room when she was told the news. "But they can't! I mean why?" the doctor cried.

"It's been cold case. CIA think they can crack it," Roth answered.

"It's _not_ Torchwood's fault! It's the government's fault, and as a former British citizen, I am _not_ saying that lightly."

"Dr. Jones-"

"I could even say that it's _our_ fault," Martha continued.

"Dr. Jones-"

"What?" she snapped. The Brigadier touched her arm. Martha hadn't even noticed that she had begun to lean into the general's face.

"Dr. Jones, should I remember that you take your orders from us, from UNIT, and not from Torchwood."

"I don't take orders from Torchwood, sir," Martha responded leaning back.

"Good, doctor."

"Been three years to the day," she added quietly. Only the Brigadier could hear her as he strained his old ears. "Torchwood's gone."

**

* * *

NOES! MARTHA OOC-NESS IS KILLING ME! What do y'all think?  
To any Classic DW fans: is the Brig too OOC? **


	3. Reconaissance

**I warned you. Classic Doctor companions will be appearing frequently. :]**

**Sorry for slow updates. This is one of those fics that I get frequent blocks on. /rips hair out/ Enjoy!**

**

* * *

**

_Zip, hiss, bang._

The senate meeting was abruptly interrupted as a bright blue flash went off in the room. The small scanner in one of the senator's pockets went off wildly but the beeping was lost in the sudden whispers that ran through the acoustically-sound room. A man lay, face down, in the center of the circle of desks and people.

"What is the meaning of this?" the leader of the meeting demanded. The man with the scanner in his pocket stayed silent as other senators began to formulate ideas. He stood up slowly and peered down at the man. He had turned off the scanner by now… but what were the odds? All these years. The long years after the choice he had made, all the stories no one but his younger brother believed. All the _adventures_.

The scanner hidden in his pocket flashed a small, dim, red light. Its miniscule screen flashed _artron_ over and over again.

The leader saw the man leaning over the table to get a better look at the man who had suddenly appeared. "Vislor!" he barked. The man looked up suddenly, hand flying to his pocket to make sure it was hidden. "You know this man?"

He shook his head. "Shouldn't we get him to the hospital?"

* * *

Gwen popped the kettle on. The water began to whistle a bit and she wiped her hands dry. "Ma!" her young daughter said, showing her a crayon coloring. Hope Williams had come back from pre-school.

"Hello darling," her mother smiled, giving her husband a quick peck as he set the car keys down on the kitchen counter. "Watch it," she told Rhys. "You'll be looking for those tomorrow."

"How was your day?" Rhys asked, placing the keys where they should have gone.

"Nothing exciting. The usual. Inspection. Dropped by Alice's for tea."

"Ah…" the man nodded as if he was thoroughly enjoying the conversation. Gwen was getting a plate for her daughter. Opening the cupboard, she took out a few packaged cookies and set them on the plate. Then she poured a glass of orange juice. Hope was already sitting in her chair, waiting for her snack. The couple then retreated to the kitchen again.

"To the date," Gwen sighed. "And we're just living like nothing happened."

"You know that's not true." Rhys frowned at his wife.

"Message from the Queen," Gwen piped up.

"The _Queen_?" Rhys laughed.

"Victoria founded Torchwood. Only fitting that the only higher authority we have is the crown."

"Um… right. What did it say?"

"CIA's coming. They're investigating us. They want the truth."

* * *

Esther rolled her shoulders. She had always hated plane rides, every since she was little and went back to visit her grandparents who lived out of the country. They made her feel cramped, even if this jet was much more comfortable. A video transmission had already briefed them and Esther snuck a look back to Rex who had fallen asleep like a rock.

_Your task is to pull as much information as you can about Torchwood._ That was what the director had said. _Three people can't cripple a nation just like that. Impossible. _Esther had felt that too. _Search out any associates of Torchwood. Anyone who's ever come in contact with the organization. Study the government. Look for things that don't ring true._ Esther reckoned that this was espionage. This wasn't the job she signed up for.

Remembering the necklace that she had found last morning, she reached into her purse. The necklace, with the beautiful but strange etchings. She undid the clasp and put it around her neck. It could have been someone's necklace at work. Hadn't it slipped from her paperwork? Esther knocked the thought from her head. It was just a necklace.

* * *

The senator named Vislor waited outside the hospital room. He tapped his foot impatiently as he linked back against the wall. He was nearly forty and starting to lose its color. A nurse came out. "He's, um… fine senator sir," she told him. He noted the shakiness in her voice.

"Is everything alright?" he asked the woman.

"Yes." The nurse's voice went up an octave. "He just gave us quite a scare when we revived him. You may go in and visit him," she told him as the rest of the hospital staff filed out of the room. Vislor nodded and the nurse dismissed herself.

By the time he had entered the room, the stranger had already gotten up from the bed and aimed the gun at him. "Murder of a government official, or murder in general, results in capital punishment –usually execution," the senator informed. His face remained passive. He wasn't afraid of this man. "My name is Vislor Turlough," he tried again.

"I need a power circuit," the stranger finally said. "Get one to me and I'll let you go."

"Maybe you could give a name?"

"John Hart."

"John, you know a bullet leaving a revolver would attract much attention, not only for its sound, but because there are no such weapons on Trion."

"Thank you for telling me where I am," the man smiled.

Turlough dug the scanner hidden out of his pocket and held it up from John to see. "Detects background radiation, or if you want the technical term: artron energy. Cost me a lot to get my hands on this thing. Seen any blue police boxes lately?"

"Why have you?"

"I made my choice to leave many years ago." Turlough responded, digging into his pockets again. He placed a small circuit on the hospital bed. "All to your satisfaction I hope." He turned to leave.

"Why are you helping me?" John suddenly asked. Turlough turned and noted the gun was not drawn anymore.

"Why not?" he countered. "Tell him I said hello."

"He's the last person I want to see and I do, I swear I'll kill him."

"Thought something similar to that once," the senator nodded. "Still, best of luck to wherever you're going."

* * *

The plane landed in Heathrow. Immediately the two twenty-year-olds were ferried to Downing Street with a warm welcome from a new Prime Minister. The smile he gave was stiff. The staff was on the edge. Esther wasn't didn't major in psychology but the only reason she could find for their behavior was because of what had happened three years ago. Three years to the day. She remembered it well and she remembered the shock when UNIT relayed the news. Torchwood. All Torchwood's fault wasn't it?

Unless of course… the staff were unpleasant because that was all a big fat li-

No. It had to be Torchwood.

* * *

**Hmmm... That necklace. /winkwink/**

**Anyway, Turlough was a former companion of the 5th Doctor. He was a political prisoner exiled to Earth in which we bargained with the Black Guardian to kill the Doctor in exchange for his freedom.  
Of course, that went down the drain when he turned against the Guardian and joined the Doctor on some fun trips into the TARDIS before returning to Trion.  
Turlough's one of my favorite companions and I realized that he would be good for Ja- um _John Hart_ (of course!) to talk to. **


	4. Prophylaxis

"Hello my name is Lois Habiba. How may I help you?" The young woman with curled hair stared welcomingly at the two guests who had stepped foot into the building. She was dressed nicely, albeit the complete black attire. Something at once put Rex in unease and Esther could sense it.

"We're here to see the Prime Minister," Rex responded, immediately taking charge.

"Appointment only."

"CIA," the man swiftly countered.

"You'll have to wait. He's currently seeing someone right now." Lois smiled again. Rex might have believed the professional front but Esther didn't. She kept quiet though, starting to finger the necklace.

"I don't think ya understand," the male operative kept pushing. "Urgent." He popped the last consonant.

"Oh I'm sure it is," Lois replied sarcastically. "I mean PM? CIA? But you're still human. Means you have to sit and wait. Like the rest of us."

"It's just a wait," Esther whispered. "Have a little patience at least."

Lois straightened the files on her desk."The two of you married?"

"No!" they both replied earnestly.

Lois nodded and paid them no more attention.

* * *

"They came today," Gwen explained to Rhys. "Lois rang."

"You think they'll catch up to us?"

"I don't know Rhys," she answered exasperatedly. "The server has been down for three years. It's impossible to hack in, so Tosh said."

"You know what I didn't get… That one woman, she said she recorded the PM saying stuff and then he stepped down you know? Where did all that video go?"

"I don't know Rhys. I don't know. Lost maybe. Deleted. Government possessed."

"Why can't you guys just go out and say the truth?" Rhys demanded for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"I've told you honey," Gwen replied softly.

"Yeah," Rhys nodded, taking his wife into an embrace. "We know."

* * *

Night fell and the woman with the short black hair dug into the cupboard for a microwave meal. Most of the times she cooked. Concentrating on chopping or peeling just perfectly took her mind off things. She had tried seeing people, but it just felt different. She'd been introduced by friends to other people before, but now… Now others treated like a fragile porcelain doll. Just like the one her father gave her. Her mother had put it up on the shelf, high, high up. She wasn't allowed to touch, just look.

The microwave oven beeped. It had already been two minutes. Pouring herself some water, she sat herself down in the living room where the TV was. Her flat seemed empty. Then again it was always this empty; she just wasn't this alone before.

The TV dinner tray sat forgotten on the coffee table while the television droned on and on about the news. The woman had fallen asleep, a restless sleep.

And then a blue light woke her up.

Damn it.

* * *

The circuit wasn't faulty, it was just wired. He tried again, Earth. Same planet, same time. But why? Exasperated, the man with the vortex manipulator kicked the floor in disgust. Then he stopped and collapsed on a nearby couch. He didn't even have time to take in his surroundings before silent tears streamed down his cheeks.

He almost did it.

Almost avoided it for a few decades. He thought he finally had the memories buried and then… And then someone had to go and send him to Trion. And that senator, like he was so full of himself asking about police boxes. And finally this, Earth. The graveyard of the universe. Something was pulling him in and he did not appreciate that.

There was a familiar feeling about the place he was in. The smells, the air. He heard faint footsteps approach him. That was odd. He was sure someone would be screaming for a copper right about now. Except no one did. Instead, the owner of the footsteps just sat down next to him. He couldn't see the face of the stranger with his hands catching his immortal rain.

"Dad…"

* * *

Back at the hotel room, four hours after their meeting with the Prime Minister, Rex was absolutely fuming. "That woman… what was her name? Curly hair, secretary."

"Lois," Esther quietly supplied.

"Who did she think she was, throwing all the sarcasm out? She's… she's…"

"British?" Esther finished. "Very judgmental of you Rex," she admonished.

"I'm going to grab a drink," he muttered, grabbing jacket, the rental car keys and the hotel card.

"What about me?" Esther asked.

Rex rolled his shoulders. "You're smart. Think of something. Do that… whatever it is that you do."

Esther raised her eyebrows at him as he exited the hotel room. She collapsed on her bed, the one on the left, the _neater_ one, and turned on her Netbook. She had brought too computers with her: her laptop and the smaller netbook. Always be prepared, that was her motto. Though, Esther had to admit, the keys on the smaller computer were vexing.

She found an email from her mom who had wished her a pleasant trip. Esther smiled. Her family had just been told that it was pure diplomatic reasons for her sudden departure to Britain and not the fact that she was part of a super-secret espionage plan. Part of her, the little girl part that had always wanted adrenaline, embraced the idea. The other part, the grown up woman, frowned against it.

Their meeting with the PM only told them what they had already known. Green, the former PM, stepped down after the 456 incident on the excuse that he was unfit for duty, although the world suspected his part in the abduction of children off the streets of England. Then it came out that he had committed suicide. Pulled the trigger to his head. He was found one week later, body all bloated and disgusting. No one had heard the gunshot because of the silencer. The only thing found on him was an envelope in his left hand, clutched tightly between his fingers.

And the world went mad.

News of the death spread like wildfires in California. What was found inside the manila envelope was irrefutable evidence that the government had been framed and that Torchwood, _beyond the police, outside the United Nations_, was the real one to blame. There were detail reports of Torchwood's history along with the Battle at Canary Wharf. And if that painfully-wounding information wasn't enough, the tables had been turned to make it seem like Torchwood forced the government to give up the children. After all, the report from 1965 stated they had done it before.

But the question had remained in Esther's mind. Why did Green commit suicide? It simply didn't make any sense. It was like the broken piece of a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle. A corner had been cut off so that even thought the story seemed plausible no one could ever be sure.

Then again, politics was complicated and the world just wanted it out and over it. Did the director feel the same as Esther did? Did he feel that Torchwood wasn't to blame?

_Bullshit_, Esther thought to herself. Even she didn't believe fully in the fallacy she had found. This mission was to target Torchwood and extract all information about them not to overturn a government. She'd be done with this and back to D.C. in no time at all.

She hoped.

* * *

Somewhere, in the past and in the future, scattered throughout the cosmos, the timelines converged. Something was coming. Something dangerous perhaps? Confusing? But certainly not the end of the world.

Just something that would change the world and go down in the history books.

* * *

**I'm writing myself into a brick wall. Barely have the beginning penned. I know how it's going to end; I know the pivotal points. I just can't get there! GAH /rips hair out/**

**Prophylaxis = preventing opponent from improving one's position at chess  
**


	5. PLEASE READ, AN

I've decided not to continue this fic due to many reasons.

1. I'm getting awfully busy nowadays with various homework assignments, work/volunteering and out-of-town competitions.

2. I'm starting to lose the feel for this fic. A problem with me is I know how it will start and I know how it will end but I can't ever link the two well enough.

3. Torchwood: Miracle Day (the name of the new series) is starting to put me off a little. The plot, as of what I've read and heard, sound like a really bad fanfiction with Mary Sues and Gary Stus all over the place. Tosh 2.0, Gwack, Hero Complex, etc etc. I don't think I can continue writing this with that in mind.

I'm terribly sorry to all the people who've faved, alerted and reviewed this work

For those of you who've done that, I have a little treat.

I did start to write ending scenes, so if you want to know how this ended, just click next chapter.

Love to all of you and I'm terribly sorry.

Maybe I'll be able to properly finish this one day, but at the time it seems unlikely.


	6. Extra Scenes

_**IN WHICH THE TARDIS APPEARS**_

Jack never believed in heaven or hell. He'd been there, done that. No such thing. No such place. No solace at the end of the light, just darkness. But if there was anything, anywhere, that he could describe as heaven, it was that sound. That wonderful yet wretched sound.

The old, unusual bell like an engine groaning. And now, it finally came. After all the praying and hoping, wishing and waiting. Maybe for once they could all believe that heaven was a place on Earth.

Rex and Esther were immediately at arms, guns raised and posed to shoot. Jack waved them down, but it wasn't as if the pair would listen to him. The CIA had guns trained at the slowly materializing police box. "Don't shoot," Jack ordered. Each word that came out of his mouth was bitten at the end. It was a plea.

A man stepped out and Jack's heart dropped. It was the man he was looking for, but not quite the man. "Doctor?" he ventured. The leather jacket-clad figure eyed him suspiciously. Jack knew the words on the man's mind –_you're wrong._ Instead, the alien opted for a more friendly, "Where am I?"

"Earth, 21st century. New Mexico, America to be specific."

"Must have entered in the wrong coordinate. I won't be a bother."

"Doctor!" The man froze. "That's your name isn't it?"

"People who get mixed up with me don't turn out well. Forget you ever saw me."

"A little too late for that," Jack laughed. "So this is before Rose isn't it? But after…" he trailed off. _After the war._ "I used to travel with you, in my timeline, in my past. And the Doctor I knew wouldn't doom a planet, not if he couldn't help it. _My_ Doctor, _Rose's_ Doctor, wouldn't give up."

* * *

_**NINE FIXES EVERYTHING, BUT SOMEHOW GIVES UP HIS MEMORIES FOR THE SAKE OF TIMELINES –EXPLAINS HIS BEHAIVIOR IN THE LONDON BLITZ WITH JACK. INCLUDES 11 WITH AMY/RORY. AMY'S THE ONE WHO HAD THE NECKLACE.**_

And so thus the world was saved and everything was set in its right motion, leaving behind another lone man with another lone adventure. When the police box disappeared from the corner of First and Amistad, it left behind memories. Memories forcibly ejected, like a CD from a stereo. And that man wandered all alone until he met the most remarkable woman and a not-really-captain.

For a moment there, that man thought he felt something. A prick, a headache, a small warning. Some flared in his mind at the familiarity as if something was echoing back through time. He ignored it though, even at the end of the universe. That wrongness he felt, he didn't understand it. And then came the End of Time. And he knew, he knew what he had to do.

So one day, after a long awaited honeymoon and many adventures of Christmas, the movement of that police box jolts his companions awake. Without a decent explanation, he sends his newlywed –not to him of course- ginger companion out onto the streets of America where she waits in the corner of a busy room while he waits right around the corner of the busy street.

There's been a necklace she's given away and the ginger watches carefully, making sure that pendant is found.

When she returns to that police box, she demands an explanation. Her husband, taking her hand, asks for one too. But the man just shakes his head and pulls around at the complex knobs and buttons of the console, shooing the couple out of the box and directs them to Cardiff Bay, telling them to bump into a woman with glasses and raven hair.

So now a man strolls into CIA headquarters. A young couple flanks him. The secretaries eye the trio with suspicion. The man's strange attire is enough to draw every eye to him. Flipping his fake badge once, the people immediately let them pass. "Diplomats from Britain," or so the word is passed on.

Instead of heading in the direction of the elevator, he takes himself to the storage rooms. Crates are piled wide and high, cataloged by use and date. In the back is a metal crate. It ought to be handed over to UNIT, but as the childish saying goes "finders keepers."

He's instantly surrounded by people with guns. Unnerved, the man opens the crate with a flick of his wrist. The device in his hand unlocks the clasps. He's aware that the guns are pressing closer. The young woman, a ginger woman, turns her head and eyes a raven-haired woman. The other woman looks astonished, seeing the girl who'd asked her intriguing questions during her mission in Cardiff.

"Can we have that necklace back?" the ginger woman asked. Her hand was held out in expectation to receive the chain. The other woman didn't move. She still had the gun trained at the three people. The red-head laughed a bit, or was it a giggle? No one could tell. "This you know 'secret government' stuff isn't really my thing, but we kinda need that back. It's alien, or so he says." She nods over to her right.

"Well it _is_," the man with the bowtie whispers harshly.

"Yeah, well it's his so we kind of need it back now." The woman smiled at the other woman. "Amy Pond and you are?"

"By order of the Central Intelligence Agency you are under arrest for breaking and entering into a secure government facility," the other woman replies.

"Her name's Esther," the bowtie man replies as he reaches into his inside jacket pocket. He pulls out a weird contraption. "And breaking and entering?" he laughs. "What did I break? _Sonicing_ and entering. Totally different. Besides, they let me through in the first place."

The armed agents back away, holding their guns a bit lower. The man smiles. In his hand is just really an ordinary tool he uses every day. Makes his life a bit simpler. But it's a tool –although changed in appearance- that they all recognize. And they're suddenly afraid, very afraid. Terrified of what, _who_, this man really is. A man who could change his face, who has jurisdiction over all, who walks around like he owns the whole universe.

"By order of the Shadow Proclamation Article 29.8, Clause 4 'If a planet acquires technology of a Level 1 planet, they are liable for isolation of 100 years.' Sounds nasty, but that's the gist of it," the Doctor grimaced. "The exception of course, if it gets take away before anyone finds out. Consider it an apology. Now if you don't mind," he continued, glancing at his watch, "I've got to meet myself fifty-four thousand years from now on the other side of the universe. Any more questions?" The men were still aiming guns although Esther had held back, fingering the chain of the necklace she now wore. Gazing at the pendant more carefully, she realized that it gave off the faintest vibration.

"Tracker," she murmured.

"Not quite and we'll also be needing that back," the Time Lord said impatiently. Slowly, Esther forked over the necklace, receiving a strong glare from Rex. The Doctor surveyed the armed agents. "I don't really like guns," he stated frankly. Then, striding forward, he called, "Come along Ponds."

* * *

**Might add a Turlough scene with the Doctor later.**


End file.
